


Be My G.I.R.L

by NiceTinCan



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: twd_kinkmeme, Crossdressing Kink, Feminization, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kink Meme, M/M, Makeup, Top Rick, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 13:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiceTinCan/pseuds/NiceTinCan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick feels heat whip through him at Shane’s dark eyes, heavy with black makeup, the part of his pink lips holding a glimmer of tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be My G.I.R.L

Rick sets his bike up around the side of Shane’s house, out of sight like Shane’s told him. Neighborhood Shane lives in is a lot different than his own, where Rick could drop his bike in the front yard and it’d still be there the next day.

Rick walks up steps that give alarmingly under his tennis shoes.

The fourth slat on the porch is weak enough that if Rick stood on it with both feet, his legs would burst right through.

Rick uses the key Shane gave him and opens the door.

It’s freezing cold in the house. Rick’s enveloped in the smell of cigarettes and the cloying flowery note from a plug-in air freshener.

“Wha you doin in here, boy?” Shane’s daddy calls when Rick walks past him.

Rick looks at him. Mr. Walsh has his head sort of flopped in his direction, unsteady in the cradle of his shoulders. One eye is half-closed in stupor.

“Just wanted to see what Shane’s up to.”

Mr. Walsh throws a palmful of mixed nuts in his mouth and grips the neck of his whisky. “Ain’t up to nothin, s’what he’s up to. Lazy piece of shit s’me doin everything in this place.” 

He hiccups. “You tell your daddy bout what I said? If’n he’s lookin for workers on that buildin project, get me down there and that shit’ll be built ‘fore the week’s out, guarantee that.”

Rick had. His daddy had almost laughed him out the house. “Need that damn Walsh on our project like I need a hole in the head,” he had said. “Cows’ll come mooin home before I let that man take a hammer to a single nail. You go on and tell him drunks live in those houses, they sure as shit don’t build em.”

“He said he’s thinkin bout it,” Rick says.

Mr. Walsh grunts. “You tell old man Grimes to get thinkin fast as the money’ll fly into his pockets when they get me down there.”

“I will.”

“Git on then, boy. Game don’t watch itself.”

Rick lets out a breath and hurries to Shane’s room. Being caught in a conversation with Shane’s daddy is the reason why Shane usually comes to his house.

He doesn’t know if Mr. Walsh would ever hit him, wants to think he wouldn’t, but just having his intimidating voice in his ears is enough to clench Rick’s gut and make him feel like running.

Rick’s seen what he’s done to Shane.

He quietly opens Shane’s door and steps inside, turning to close and lock it.

It smells like Shane in here, his deodorant and that stuff he puts in his hair to try and keep it from sticking out in all directions. It’s longer now, and unlike Rick’s curls Shane’s are dense and springy.

On humid days it looks like Shane has some kind of animal on his head.

Rick smiles thinking about that and turns around.

To be met with a cool hand slapping over his eyes. “What the hell are you doin here, Rick?” Shane’s voice hisses.

“Geez! You scared me half to death, Shane.” Rick tries to turn his face away from the hand but it’s there tight. “I just wanted to come over. Can you tell me what I did to deserve this?”

“Now ain’t the right time. Damn it, Rick. I was doin somethin.”

“Somethin?” Rick smiles even as a blush creeps hot across his cheeks that he wonders if Shane can feel.

“No, not that!” 

“When ain’t you doin that?”

“Shut up.” Shane sighs. “Rick, you can’t be here. You gotta go home.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t want you lookin at me right now.”

“Why? What’s so bad? Ain’t I your best friend?”

“In the whole world, brother. But...”

“If you’re naked, I’ll keep my eyes closed while you put your clothes on,” Rick offers.

Well, maybe he’ll peek a little bit.

“I ain’t naked. Is that what you were thinkin?”

“I don’t know what could be so bad you don’t want me to see you.” Shane’s hand is looser on his eyes now. Rick can open them and see pink skin and light through the gap of Shane’s middle and ring finger.

“It ain’t... Bad. Just maybe somethin you’d laugh at.”

“I wouldn’t laugh at you,” Rick says, and means it. “What, you dye your hair or somethin?”

“Nah...”

“Shane, c’mon. Just lemme see?”

Shane’s silent a few moments. Rick can feel his breath washing over his face. 

He considers something else. “Is it somethin your dad did?”

“No, ain’t anything like that. You won’t laugh?”

“You should know me better than to think I would.”

“And you won’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t,” Rick says, very curious now. “Brother, I promise I won’t.”

“I’m trustin you now, Rick...”

Shane’s fingers flex over Rick’s face. Then he drops his hand and Rick blinks as his eyes are assaulted from the grey rainy light coming in from the window before they fix on Shane.

Rick doesn’t know why he was sure Shane was naked, and for a split second he looks over Shane and doesn’t see what he isn’t supposed to tell anybody about. Takes his eyes up to Shane’s face, which is—

Rick blinks. Shane blinks his black-outlined eyes back at him.

“This is what you meant?”

“Yeah, man.” Shane looks down at the carpet. Mascara-lengthened eyelashes fan low. “I was goin to go wash it all off before you came in.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Rick says.

Shane looks up. His lips are shiny and pink.

“Why’re you wearin it?”

“Stupid reason,” Shane says. He goes to sit on his bed. On top of the covers there’s a round mirror, sticks of eyeliner and lipstick. There’s a tube of mascara that rolls off the bed from Shane’s weight.

Rick goes and picks it up. “You wanna tell me?” He pushes the stuff over so he has room to sit by Shane. “How long’ve you been doin this anyway?”

“Only done it a coupla times.” Shane takes the mascara from him and turns it in his hands. “This is all my mom’s stuff.”

Mom’s stuff is more than just the makeup. There’s a couple white plastic bags on the floor stuffed with clothes and a thick box Rick thinks must be for jewelry. There’s hair spray and lotions stacked up on Shane’s dresser, several bottles of perfume.

“She just left it all here. Found everything in Dad’s closet. Some pictures.” Shane takes a framed one off his nightstand and gives it to Rick.

It’s a faded, rusty photo. Shane’s mother is looking away from the camera, her arms over the back of a chair. “That’s her,” Shane says, though Rick can remember. Curly black hair, big dark eyes. 

“Guess that’s where you got them earlobes from.”

Shane scoffs and takes it back.

Rick looks at his profile; the swipe of pink lipstick, the black wing in the corner of his eye, the long sweeping eyelashes. Shane’s hair, curls looser now and tumbling forwards as he tilts his head.

It doesn’t look silly like Rick might’ve thought it would if he’d been asked to conjure up an image of what his best friend would look like in lipstick.

Shane looks—nice. Pretty.

The longer Rick looks, the lower a heaviness settles deep in his belly.

“I’ma go rinse it off,” Shane says, and stands.

Rick catches his wrist. “Wait.”

Shane stops.

“You don’t have to. I like it. It looks nice.”

“You ain’t serious,” Shane scoffs, pulling his wrist away to cross his arms.

“Yeah, I am.” Rick’s words come out as weighty as the feeling in his gut.

Shane looks at him. His eyes skid away when he sees that Rick is completely sincere.

Shane’s lips shape around words and he drops his arms. Rick takes his wrist again, and this time drags his palm up Shane’s smooth skin.

Rick feels things shifting between them, feels the heat. “You look pretty,” he says, hold tightening. Sweat is dampening the back of his neck like it did last week when he inched his hand up a girl’s thigh under their desks. Shane’s advice, no, a _dare_ , and Rick’s hand had shaken there, the flutter of Michelle’s skirt on top of his hand, agonizing over whether she could feel how wet his palm was on her skin.

“Do you like doin this?” Rick asks.

“Yeah, man.” Shane licks his lips. The tendons in his arm twitch under Rick’s palm. “Am I a fairy?”

“I don’t think so.”

Shane looks dubious. He sits next to Rick again, their shoulders and hips touching, and looks down at his lap. “First time I did this was ‘cause, you know, she used all this. It’s all I got left. Thought it would...” Shane shakes his head. His shoulders heave. “But I liked feelin like a girl, Rick.” He laughs. “Now ain’t that the most queer thing you ever heard.”

He peeks at Rick and his face is as red as Rick’s ever seen it. The flush crawls into his neck and lights up his ears.

“Shane, I don’t think that,” Rick presses. “Look at me.”

Shane does.

Rick feels heat whip through him at Shane’s dark eyes, heavy with black makeup, the part of his pink lips holding a glimmer of tongue.

It took everything to rest his hand down on Michelle’s smooth knee. Now, Rick’s hand reaches by an invisible tug and hurting lust. His palm touches down on rough denim this time, and he squeezes, which he didn’t before.

Shane inhales and holds it, Rick does too, and the friction sound of his hand sliding up Shane’s thigh is loud and exciting in the quiet.

Rick leans closer, and their two opened mouths touch. Shane breathes out and Rick’s lungs take him in. 

Shane moves his lips, to say something, to make a useless sound, but they get caught up in Rick’s and press.

A shock of electricity balls up in Rick’s stomach. He brings his hand up and slides it into Shane’s hair, his heart pounding out _I’m kissing Shane, I’m kissing Shane!_ into his ribs.

The lipstick tastes like plastic, but when Rick slips his tongue through Shane’s lips he finds peppermint and the dark taste of Coke.

Rick moves forward more and Shane leans back on his hands. Rick’s hand is stuck between Shane’s legs, palming hardening flesh.

“Wait wait,” Shane says, turning his face away. Rick kisses his cheek like he used to when he was four. “You lock the door?”

Rick nods and swallows. He forgot all about Shane’s father out there. If he listens he can hear the TV.

It’s dark outside now, and when Shane turns off his light, they’re plunged in both silence and the drizzle of noise outside his room.

“Here,” Shane says, his whisper loud and nuanced in the dark. He turns on his bedside lamp and warm light glows over the bed and touches the rest of the room.

Shane’s skin is the color of fire when he steps towards Rick now, hair struck with coppery highlights, each eye holding a flame.

“Ain’t that cozy?” 

Shane’s kissing him again, Shane’s plasticy lipstick and soft curls Rick grabs when he presses him down into the bed.

But Shane going away again, and Rick groans and snags the hem of his tee shirt when Shane gets up. Should never have started this, because now he _needs_ Shane.

“I think you’ll like this.”

On his stomach, Rick turns his head on Shane’s pillow to watch him. Close to the radio, Rick can hear a tinny song from the speakers.

Shane faces him and draws his shirt over his head. The necklace Rick gave him goes with it before falling back between his collar bones.

Shane’s skin is smooth and flawless, shadowed with definition in places that Rick’s position of quarterback doesn’t afford him.

The tinny music takes shape and Rick recognizes the song just as Shane reaches for his jeans button.

The pants go down his thighs slow, sticking around the thick muscles there. Shane steps out of them and stands there in his black briefs.

Rick licks his lips. He’s so hard it feels like there’s a hot bowl of aching jello in his pants. Doing all he can to not rub himself on the covers. A hot idea strikes him. “Put on one of them dresses.”

After a still moment, Shane says, “I never done that before.”

Rick sits up on an elbow. “You can.”

Shane twists the waistband of his briefs in his fingers and Rick wants so badly for his tongue to be there in the cuts on his hips.

He undoes his belt, and while Shane crouches down to rustle through the bag of clothes, Rick pulls himself out, hiding his cock in the stroke of his hand. Shane’s seen him before, but they were little kids then.

Rick turns up the radio a notch with his free hand, and Tanya Tucker churns in the air.

“I remember this one,” Shane says, standing up with a white dress against his chest. It brushes the middle of his thighs daintily. “She wore this a coupla days before she left. We went to a barbecue at my grandmama’s.”

Shane looks over to Rick, sees what he’s doing, and it seems to swell a new confidence in him because he smiles and bites his lip. 

Tanya sings _trouble in my heart_ while Shane brings the dress over his head, _trouble on my mind_ , and it falls over him in a white dream. The hem, embroidered with infinity symbols of gold thread, swishes on his legs.

Rick wipes his sticky curls out of his face to see Shane better. His palm is wet with precome. “You look great.”

The dress is tight around the width of Shane’s chest and loose the rest of the way down. The straps are pulled taut over his shoulders, stretching the fabric over his chest almost sheer; Rick can see the points of his nipples.

Rick rolls onto his back but keeps his hand on his dick and his head turned towards Shane.

“Thought it wouldn’t fit,” Shane chuckles. He rubs his hands down the dress, smoothing it out. “Rick, you really don’t think—”

“I’m not thinkin anythin right now.”

“Shit, man.” Shane runs a hand through his hair, eyes bright and lip tucked back between his teeth. His eyes swing to the dresser and he touches everything there; his mom’s perfumes and lotions and hair brushes.

Rick thinks of the only memory he has of her—that time he was sitting on Shane’s porch and slid his hand the wrong way. A half-inch splinter had shot up under his thumbpad. She’d tapped her cigarette out on the rail and carried him inside to the countertop. 

Rick remembers the ends of her long hair brushing him while she bent her head, the cool fingers, the strength of her grip when she’d held his hand still and pulled out the wood with a pair of tweezers.

She’d kissed the pain away after. Rick couldn’t recall that before, but he does now. Remembers the red prints her lips had left on his thumb.

Shane picks up a bottle of perfume slowly. He looks at Rick like he’s asking permission.

“Go ahead,” Rick says.

Shane pulls the cap off.

The bottle is a round peachy thing. Shane sprays it on his neck and chest and it smells like that too, peaches and champagne. Saliva floods his mouth.

Shenandoah’s on now, crooning out _oh I musta been a fool back then_ as the length of Shane’s smooth legs cross over to the bed.

Rick sits up to make room for him, but Shane laughs all breathy and swings a leg over his lap, and Rick’s hands fit easy around Shane’s warm thighs.

Shape tips down and kisses him like he’s always known how Rick likes to be kissed.

Rick moans and his fingertips dig into the backs of Shane’s thighs, peaches and liquor filling his lungs and the tickle of Shane’s hair around his face.

Shane shifts his hips over Rick’s cock, and doesn’t that feel good, so good Rick pants into Shane’s mouth, wound tight and ready to go off.

“Holy shit, Rick,” Shane says, and Rick feels the vibration of his voice all over.

His hands move up Shane’s thighs, beneath the soft dress, curve under his ass and squeeze, urge forwards so Shane rubs their cocks together again. Rick feels the head of his ride the seam of Shane’s underwear and delves a hand under them. Shane’s cock is stiff against his palm, pulses as Rick pulls it outside its confines.

“Oh fuck.” Shane trembles.

Rick looks between them and it’s so dirty, the way Shane’s dress falls around their hips, covering up Rick’s wrist between his legs, Shane’s hard cock.

Shane sits up on him, his head tipping back. Light caresses his slick throat and he breathes hoarsely. Drop of sweat rolls off his Adam’s apple into make believe cleavage.

Rick’s hips raise involuntarily and Shane’s head lists to the side. Hands on Rick’s chest slide on his shirt and fist into the fabric. “Rick.”

“What?” 

“Rick, you wanna...? I mean,” Shane makes a frustrated noise. “I mean, you wanna fuck?”

Rick opens his eyes and flicks them around the ceiling. 

Shane moves and he’s pulling up his shirt now, his hot tongue flickering up the center of Rick’s stomach.

“I’m still a virgin,” Rick admits.

Shane stops and looks up at him. “ _No_ , man. What happened with Michelle?”

“It just didn’t work out, I guess.”

“You guess,” Shane huffs. “Christ. I told you exactly what to do, man. You can’t follow directions?”

Warm strike of Shane’s tongue. Rick blinks heavily. “Guess I didn’t want her as much as I thought I did.”

“Sure you did. She always had on them skirts, flashing them pretty legs around. I know you liked em.”

Shane nips him under the ribs then pulls his shirt off over his head. Rick sits up to help him and gets in another kiss.

“Don’t tell me you’re bout that no fuckin till marriage shit, Rick. I couldn’t take it.”

Rick shakes his head. He holds Shane tight.

Outside the door, Shane’s father whoops at the television, and Shane tenses up.

“I wanna fuck,” Rick says. His lips tingle darkly with that last word. Shane’s the one who cusses. “I want it to be you. You thought of this before?”

“You bet. But thought you only liked girls.”

“Well,” Rick drawls. “You can be my girl, then.”

Shane smiles crookedly. “That right?”

“Uh-huh.” Rick kisses Shane’s neck, licks up peaches and champagne. “If you want.”

“Sure I do.”

When Shane takes the kiss again he does it with fevered intensity, makes it rough. Rick gentles it, and tips Shane backwards towards the end of the bed and under him.

Rick reaches under his dress and slides his underwear down and off. Shane breathes faster then, they both do.

Shane’s makeup is smeared; lipstick almost all gone, no doubt all over Rick’s face, his eyeliner smudged over and under his eyes, strands of hair sticking to his eyelashes.

It all diffuses heat in Rick.

He runs his palms over Shane’s bent legs. “You’re my pretty girl.”

A notion of how this works has his eyes scanning the room. There’s a box of condoms halfway crushed between the bed and the wall, but.

“You gotta get your pretty girl ready,” Shane breathes, raising his hips.

Rick pulls out the condom box. While he’s settling back between Shane’s legs, he sees a blue nozzle in the covers and grabs it. It’s a small thing of hand lotion, kind Shane likely jacks off with.

Rick gets the condom on himself the first try, though he has to ignore how Shane chuckles at his trembling fingers, says _why you so nervous_?

The lotion piles cold in his palm. Rick rolls his fingers in it, ignores another snickering comment from Shane, and reaches down.

The first finger slides in from tip to knuckle and Shane hisses, spreading his hands on the covers, then grabbing bunches of his dress.

A drop of sweat rolls off Rick’s nose and falls on Shane. He wipes his face. “How many do you need?” he asks, feeling around inside him, hot inside and very, very tight.

“Try another.”

Another fits in beside the first, barely. The pressure inside Shane makes Rick’s fingers cross.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Rick says.

Shane lets it out. “Who’s the virgin here? Got me all suspicious now. Seem to know what you’re doin.”

“M’just tryin not to hurt you.”

Shane doesn’t look like he knows what to do with that sentiment. He spreads his knees further, pretty white dress fluttering back and showing his cock. Shane leans up on his forearms to see better.

His hips shift down into Rick’s digging fingers. His breath jitters. “Rick, man, I want you now. C’mon, brother, can’t wait any more.”

“You sure?” Rick slips his fingers out.

“Uh-huh.” Shane stares at him, drags his tongue over the curve of his lips. “You got my pussy all nice and wet.”

“ _Shit_.”

“It’s achin,” Shane goads, even as Rick leans over to cover his dirty mouth with his own.

They ease into place, instinctive; seem to make all the adjustments without any thought but to fuck.

Rick races his tongue over Shane’s teeth and settles his weight on his arms caging Shane’s head. He feels Shane’s ankles hook together over his ass.

Shane slings an arm around his shoulders and lifts up a bit. Rick’s cock bumps his balls, crease of his thigh, lower.

Rick moves back a little and reaches between them to take ahold of his cock, breath wheezy now. His whole body is thumping with the beat of his heart.

He aims down and feels the slick, hot hole pulse under the head of his dick. Without thinking, he pushes with his hips and pops the head inside. “ _Ah_.” Falls over Shane and can’t keep the rest of his dick from feeding in.

Shane takes it in a long, wet slide as long as his pained breath stretches, until they’re held together by Rick’s cock.

“Fuck,” Shane gasps. “Fuck, Rick, fuck.”

Filled with a sudden urge to not stay here, to make it good, Rick follows his body’s need and pulls halfway out, crashes back inside.

It moves Shane up the bed. He cushions the footboard with his arm. A guttural, harsh noise burbles out of his throat.

Shane shoves up against him and Rick pauses, dread curdling in his gut because what if he really hurt Shane, but, “Don’t you fuckin quit now,” Shane’s panting. He spurs his heels into Rick’s ass. “Fuck my fuckin pussy.”

Rick would laugh if he had any air to spare. His face burns hot at Shane’s filthy mouth, even after everything. His whole body tingles.

The warm light glows over them both as Rick moves. His arms bathed in gold are glittering with sweat and he’s struggling to be quiet, to keep it all in as he fucks Shane. He’s still entirely too conscious of where he is, even if the door is locked and Shane is so perfect around him Rick thinks sex must be another word for losing your mind.

The radio’s still humming behind him, playing a song he doesn’t know, but there’s a woman singing _oh baby_ , _oh baby_ , louder and louder, Shane sweating peaches and liquor.

Rick pulls Shane’s pretty dress, desperate for an anchor as his orgasm breaks him apart. 

“Sh,” Shane says, covering his mouth, his gritted teeth.

Rick cries out there, thrusting deep. Every bit of him pours out.

The world in his flared eyes blurs and trembles for those unbelievable few seconds. 

Still thrusting in jerky short strokes, he closes his eyes and drops his head. Shane’s hand slips off his mouth.

“God,” he whispers. He stares down at Shane, his smeared black eyeliner and light lip prints he has on his chin and cheek from the transfer of it on Rick’s lips.

Rick finds the flavor again with his tongue; in the corners, dip of his top lip.

Shane’s still hard. Rick goes to stroke him, but Shane pushes him away and out. “Think I’d dirty up my dress?”

“Let’s get it off then.” Rick grabs the hem and Shane sits up to help him pull it over his head.

Rick carefully slips off the condom and dumps it in Shane’s trash bin, hurries back to attach their mouths and indulge himself in all of Shane’s warm skin.

When Shane comes, jerking his hips into Rick’s hand and moaning in his ear, Rick squeezes his ass and imagines how lace would stretch between his fingers, how it would feel over Shane’s smooth flesh.

“I know what I’m gotta get you for your birthday,” Rick says. 

Shane rests against him. Rick wonders how late it is. He’ll have to get home soon, but he’ll see Shane tomorrow and the day after.

“What you gonna get me?”

“I’m not tellin you. Where’s the fun in that? You only get a hint.” He reaches to play with Shane’s necklace.

“You can wear em every day, just like this.”


End file.
